an might lie hid from all
the world if he chose.' So he laughed, and we rode on."

"I mind it," said Heregar; "but it was many years ago."

"I think he may be there, for our king weighs his words, and does
not forget. I held his horse at your door in Chippenham the other
day, and he spoke to me by name, and put me in mind of little
things for which he had laughed at me in those same old days. He is
a good king."

So said Dudda, the rough housecarl; and it is in my mind that the
kindly remembrance would have wiped out many a thought of wrong,
had there been any. That is a kingly gift to remember all, and no
king has ever been great who has not had it; for it binds every man
to his prince when he knows that aught he has done is not
forgotten, so it be good to recall.

So it came to pass that next day, very early, we rode away, taking
Harek and Kolgrim and this man Dudda with us, well armed and
mounted and full of hope, across the southward ridge that looks
down over the fens of the meeting of Tone and Parret, where they
are widest and wildest. No Danes had crossed them yet, and when I
saw what they were like I thought that they never could do so.

And as I looked at the long chains of ice-bound meres and pools
that ran among dense thickets of alder and wide snow-covered
stretches of peat bogs, it seemed that we might search in vain for
one who would hide among them. Only the strange round hill on
Stanmoor seemed to be a point that might be noted on all the level,
though Dudda told us that there were many islets hidden in the
wooded parts.

We went to the lower hills and then to the very edge of the
fenland, skirting along it, and asking here and there of the
cottagers if they knew of any folk in hiding in the islets. But
though we heard of poor people in one or two places, none of them
knew of any thane; and the day wore on, and hope began to grow dim,
save for Dudda's certainty that what he had heard was true.

At last we came to a long spur of high ground that runs out into
the fen, about midway between Bridgwater and Taunton; and there is
the village they call Lyng, where we most hoped to hear good news.
The day was drawing to sunset, and we would hasten; so Heregar went
one way and I another, each to distant cottages that we saw. The
lane down which I and my two comrades rode seemed to lead fenwards,
and it was little more than a track, deep in snow and tree
bordered. The cottage we sought was a quarter mile